Coming of Age
by Siriuslives5
Summary: When Ginny is left at Hogwarts while the trio searches for Horcruxes, she longs to do something useful. HG, RHr, takes place during Ginny's sixth year. Post HBP
1. Maybe When You're Older

**Hey! This is a plot bunny that's been bugging me, it'll probably be about 6 chaps. maybe more. Enjoy and review!**

**Disclaimer: My lawyer's working on it, but, unfortunatly, I don't own HP yet.

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Ginny Weasley had never felt more frustrated in her entire life, and she had grown up with six brothers. Never had she felt so annoyed, so _insulted_. 

They left her behind. They said she wasn't old enough; it was too dangerous, so much so that they didn't want to risk bringing another person. It hurt, the excuses they made. It all meant the same thing; "You're too little, Ginny." Or, "It's too dangerous, wait till you're older and we'll think about it." The same things she had been hearing all her life.

Hadn't she proven herself? Hadn't she dealt with the evils of Voldemort before? Didn't she fight the Death Eaters at the ministry just last year? Surely that meant she was just as qualified to go with them as they were!

Harry told her it wasn't because he didn't think she was worthy.

"I know you, Ginny," he had said at the Burrow during Bill and Fleur's wedding, just before the three of them had left, "I know how powerful and smart you are. I know how stubborn you are, and how much you want to fight. I know that you feel that you deserve to go with us, and you do. But Ginny, I can't let you. This…this is one of those situations where we don't know the outcome. There is every chance that one of us won't come out alive, and…with you…I can't risk that. I care about you too much."

Ginny had always been proud of the fact that during these sort of situations, she was always able to keep calm. She was able to detach herself; to act cool and collected even when she was anything but. She had done it recently, when they broke up. So, needless to say, it came as a shock to both of them that when she responded, her voice shook and cracked.

"So…so Ron and Hermione don't matter, do they?" she had managed to choke, furious with herself for not being able to keep her voice steady.

She had watched as his face grew darker, obviously annoyed at her for even suggesting such a thing, but when he responded it was in the same soft and calm voice he had been using.

"Ron and Hermione matter more than almost anything. Ginny, listen, this has as much to do with them as it does me! They've been in this from the beginning. From the moment I stepped into to Hogwarts, they've been fighting him with me. Trust me, if I had my way, I'd be doing this on my own, but they…it's their decision to make."

"Why can't I make my own decisions?"

"Because you're not of age."

It had felt like a blow to the stomach. So she was old enough to go out with him, but she couldn't fight with him? She was old enough to love him, but not defend him? To her, the things went hand in hand.

"That has to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Harry. I'm the same age you were just last month! You've been fighting Voldemort all your life, and you've never cared about whether or not you were '_of age'_." At that point he had turned away from her and buried his face in his hands. For a moment they stood there in silence, and then he turned around and looked at her in the eye.

"Ginny, you are not going. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let you." She had opened her mouth furiously, ready to reply, but he had simply walked away.

When she had walked into the kitchen an hour later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were no where to be found.

Now she sat in her usual place in front of the Gryffindor common room fire, the sounds of pointless gossip coming from all around her. She sat alone. It wasn't that she didn't have friends her own age, but they simply didn't measure up to the three seventh year students that should be sitting in the very place she was. It didn't seem right to laugh and have fun when she knew that her three best friends were off searching for the dangerous dark magic they would use to destroy the most evil wizard of all time.

She looked around the crowded common room, amazed at how it was almost the same as it always was, yet different in an unavoidable way. There was no Hermione, surrounded by a stack of huge texts, her quill scratching furiously on whatever essay of the day. There was no Ron, playing exploding snap and losing, occasionally stealing a glance at Hermione when he thought no one was looking. And most of all, there was no Harry. She had loved the way he sat in his favorite chair by the fire, thumbing through _Quidditch through the Ages _for the thousandth time, complaining about the amount of work Snape had set them, or else quietly discussing whatever mystery he was currently a part of. Without the three of them, Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts.

The first couple of weeks, it had just felt odd. Now it fully registered how _wrong _it felt. She hated the fact that they were off risking their lives, why she just sat here in school, worrying about her next exam. She hated feeling like she was doing absolutely nothing to help. For the first time, she understood what Sirius must have felt like, and she wished she would have been more sympathetic. She wanted so badly to _do _something, _anything_, anything that would make her feel like she had a purpose.

"_Ginny!_" She started and looked around. Demelza was standing next to her, a scroll furled in her hands and annoyed expression her face.

"I've been saying your name for about two minutes now," she said crossly.

"I'm sorry, Demelza…I was…distracted."

"Well, I can't say I'm not surprised. Listen, you have a note from Professor McGonagall." She handed Ginny the scroll.

"See you, Ginny, and look…if you need to talk…I'm here." Ginny smiled and watched her friend walk away. It was nice for her to say that, but she doubted anyone would really understand what she was feeling just now. Curious, Ginny unrolled the message.

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_I hope you are feeling well, despite certain circumstances. I was hoping that you could meet me in my office after supper this evening; there are a few things I would like to discuss with you. _

_Don't forget about your Transfiguration essay,_

_Professor McGonagall_

Ginny looked at her watch and realized it was time for dinner. She headed towards the portrait hole wondering what Professor McGonagall could possibly want.

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	2. Gargoyles, Ginger Newts, and Phoenixes

When the desert plates had cleared Ginny rose from her solitary place at the end of the Gryffindor table and exited the Great Hall. She strode down the almost empty corridors in the direction of Dumbledore's—_McGonagall's_ office. She felt a pang as she approached the stone gargoyles that flanked the entrance. She remembered Harry telling her about Dumbledore's…_interesting _choice of passwords.

_"He really loves his sweets…I remember once, when I couldn't figure out the password to his office, I got really annoyed and shouted every single candy I could think of. It finally opened on cockroach clusters, of all things!" he laughed at the memory before adding, "…I've been wondering ever since if he actually likes those!" he looked curious and revolted at the same time, and Ginny couldn't help but giggle at his expression. _

She sighed, wishing that all her memories of him involved laughing. In all honesty, Harry didn't laugh that often. It was of those rare things that everyone who loved him wished he would do. She knew Dumbledore had.

The sound of a door closing further down the corridor snapped her out of her thoughts, and she focused on the problem at hand: how did she get in to McGonagall's office? She had said nothing about the password in her note.

"Lemon drops?" Ginny timidly asked the gargoyles, doubting the formal McGonagall would choose something so frivolous. The situation seemed to call for something a bit more serious.

"Gryffindor?" No response. "Er…OWLs? Homework? Er…Transfiguration! Animagi! Order of the Phoenix! OPEN, YOU BLOODY—"

"Why don't you try Ginger Newts?" Sounded an amused voice from behind her. Ginny whipped around and found herself face to face with the unusual sight of Professor McGonagall grinning.

"Shocking as it may be," she smiled, gesturing at the look on Ginny's face, "I too, occasionally feel the need to indulge in something as innocent and unnecessary as Albus's beloved sweets. Especially when he is not here to share them with me…" she broke off, leaving a strained silence behind. Ginny fully realized for the first time how difficult the loss must have been for the new Headmistress. From what she could tell, the two Professors had seemed rather close.

"Well, come on, then." McGonagall said abruptly, marching towards the spiral staircase that was now visible. Ginny followed her, wondering as they ascended whether her office looked the same as it had when Dumbledore had been its occupant.

It didn't. Instead of curious whirring and puffing instruments, the beautiful circular office was entirely consumed with books. Thick ones, thin ones, new and old, worn and frayed, glossy, some with the distinct aura of being extremely boring and others looked as if they were most likely illegal. Ginny was irresistibly reminded of Hermione and grinned, thinking how very much alike her friend and her favorite teacher was.

"Please, sit." McGonagall said softly. She was already seated behind the desk that Ginny had always associated with the person pictured in the portrait above her. His head was lolled upon his shoulder, and he was snoring gently. In his sleep, some of the lines upon his face seemed to disappear, and for the first time since Ginny known him, he looked completely at peace.

"I suppose you have wondered why I summoned you here, and I do apologize for not elaborating in the message I send sent you." McGonagall said, once her student was seated, "However, before I explain further, I would like to make one thing clear. When I ask you what I am going to, I will not be asking as your headmistress, but as an Order member and a family friend." She paused, and peered sternly at Ginny over her square-rimmed glasses, "What we will be discussing…well, the Ministry might not _necessarily _approve of it. Not that that really matters." She added, sniffing.

"Miss Weasley, I am quite positive that you know of Mr. Potter's, Mr. Weasley's, and Miss Granger's whereabouts, or, at the very least, why they are gone." She trailed off, as though hoping Ginny would chime in with the answers to these inquiries, but when she didn't, continued, "You are one's best friend, one's sister, and another's…perhaps something more." Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair, somewhat shocked that her Transfiguration would acknowledge something that _personal_.

"…Which is why I have decided you are the best person for the job. Youhave proven yourself, Miss Weasley. Last year you battled the Death Eaters here, and the year before in the Department of Mysteries. I realize that you most likely wish to be helping Mr. Potter, am I right?" Ginny nodded silently.

"Then here's your chance. It is of the Order's opinion that a certain society be re-established, also known as Dumbledore's Army. After the horrible occurrence last year, we realized just how important student involvement is. Without your, Mr. Longbottom's, and Mr. Weasley's help, that night could have become even more disastrous. It came to my attention that Miss Granger had attempted to call former members of the Army, and only two responded, those being Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood.

"We would like you, Miss Weasley, to be in charge of reforming Dumbledore's Army. We would like our students to be aware of the current danger in our world, and to have the ability to defend themselves in the case of an emergency.

"I realize, of course, that there may be some members who wish to join that you may not entirely trust. Let them join anyway. Just make sure that certain secrets—such as Order members and the location of your brother and his friends—are not revealed. As our dear late Headmaster believed—" Ginny could have sworn the Dumbledore in the portrait smiled slightly, "—it is a person's choices, not their family or their past, that make them who they truly are. So, what do you say?"

Ginny was unsure of what to do. Yes, of course she wanted to help the Order, and she was willing to do _anything_ to help Harry, but this? Defense was her best subject, but she wasn't nearly as good as Harry or even Ron and Hermione. She didn't think she had the qualities of a teacher, either, everyone was well aware of her amount of patience, or lack thereof. She would most likely lose her temper when somebody like Neville couldn't perform a simple bat-bogey hex.

"I—I'm not sure that I would really be the _best_ choice of teacher, I—"

"Why not?" This caused Ginny to become slightly annoyed, she would think having the same teacher for six years would result in them knowing the faults of the other.

"Because, I'm not really as qualified as he was, and not nearly as patient, or as well informed, and—"

"What do you think Harry would do in this situation?"

That was easy. He would say yes, immediately; he would do anything as long as it had to do with destroying Voldemort. Isn't that what she pledged to do? Isn't that what she had been itching to do all year, to help in any way possible to destroy the evil that had, in many ways, destroyed her life? Here was her one opportunity, and she was going to say no because she didn't feel up to the task?

"I'll do it." She whispered, not looking up to meet her Professor's eyes.

"Good. I'm sure you will be wonderful. Now, as I mentioned before, the Ministry may not like the idea of training young people for war; you know how they are about belittling students, calling them helpless children and whatnot. So I think it might be best if you continue to keep this organization as quiet possible. We don't want another disaster like Umbridge, do we?" She attempted a smile, but it came out more like a grimace, "Well, that's really all we needed to discuss. I appreciate your willingness to help, and I trust you will do your very best."

Ginny rose from her seat, and hurried for the door.

"Oh! Wait, Miss Weasley! I almost forgot. You are aware that Fawkes the Phoenix accompanied your friends on their mission, correct?" Ginny nodded, remembering their surprise when the beautiful bird had arrived at the Burrow over the summer. Dumbledore had apparently left quite a few of his belongings to Harry, Fawkes being one of them. "Well, obviously Fawkes can travel undetected, so I believe they have chosen him to be their way of communicating. You have a letter…" She pulled a tightly furled scroll from within a desk drawer. "When you have written a reply, give it to me, and I will give to Fawkes to return."

"Why can't Fawkes come into my dormitory, or the common room?" Ginny asked, as she took the scroll from McGonagall.

"It would be too suspicious. Fawkes is almost always linked with the Order, for obvious reasons. Sleep well, Ginerva."

Ginny cringed at the use of her full name, and stepped down upon the spiral staircase, reading the front of the scroll as she descended.

_To: Ginny Weasley_

_From: Hermione Granger_

Finally, some news!


	3. Just As Important

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'm sorry that I didn't add some author notes on chap two; I've been having some trouble with my wireless. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please Review!**

**Disclaimer--Seriously, people. All the credit goes to Jo. As if we have that level of creativity.**

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She waited until she was back in her dormitory with the curtains pulled around her four poster bed before opening the letter. Immediately she recognized the perfect cursive always associated with Hermione.

_Dear Ginny,_

_How are you? How's Hogwarts? It must be strange without Professor Dumbledore, and I'm sure that many students and friends no longer attend school, but, nevertheless, I am jealous that you are still able to attend classes, relax in the common room, and sleep in a warm, elegant dormitory. We are changing locations constantly, and the idea of an actual bed you can look forward to getting into every night is quite appealing. The inns are nice, of course, I'm not going to try and make it sound as if Harry's dragged us off to some horrible wasteland with no plumbing, but still, an inn is nothing like an actual home. Although, one could argue that home is where the heart is, and my heart most definitely lies with our boys, so I suppose I should not be complaining. _

_The trip is going rather well. You know of the place we traveled first, and I must say: it was fascinating. There was so much historical value in that area, and, as I'm sure we have all suspected, Harry has turned out to be related to a certain famous lion. We visited his parent's graves, and Ginny, I know you're angry with him, but at that moment I knew he was doing the right thing. He looked so tired standing in front of those graves, so sad, and so old, and I knew that he would have given anything to have those two wonderful people alive again. He wishes so much that the people he loves didn't have to be hurt like this, that Sirius could be alive and happy, that Dumbledore could be able take care of his wonderful students, and that Cedric could have graduated. Ginny, he loves you. I know that at times that may be difficult to believe, but I swear, I know what I'm talking about. When I told him I was writing you, and asked if he wanted to say something…the look on his face told me everything. For a moment it was so obvious that he DID want to write to you, to tell you how he felt, to say how much he missed you. But then he just shook his head and turned away. He's much too disciplined, our Harry, wouldn't you agree?_

_As far as the actual mission, we are making progress. We think we may stop by a grim old place around the holidays, perhaps we'll see you there? We do have a bit of a lead, a certain thief and goat-lover are involved, however, so Merlin knows how long it might be before we actually take care of the problem. We may have to enlist some help from some close Auror friends. _

_I know you do not like hearing things like this, but I must tell you, your brother has grown up more in the past few months than he has in the entire six years that I've known him. He really is becoming quite the mature man; I have been so proud of him. He really loves Harry, and is obviously willing to do anything to help him. Just yesterday Harry said that we shouldn't be with him, and that we should go back to school. Well, it's one thing to see Ron get mad at Malfoy, but it's quite another to see him get insulted by his best friend. "Harry!" he had said, the tips of his ears going traditionally red, "You're being a bloody git. You think I would be searching for evil dark magic that will most likely kill me, trooping around God-forsaken villages in the pouring rain, and sleeping on hard floors at night, if I didn't want too! I'm here, Hermione's here, you're stuck with us, and there isn't anything you can do about it!"_

_I really do love that man._

_And on that note, I will mention that the sleeping arrangements have been interesting. We can't afford two rooms, obviously, and since there is typically only one bed per room, they insisted upon being gentleman and allowed me to use it. That was very kind of them, however, I refused. Why should I be the only one comfortable? Harry's the one in charge, and the one in the most danger, shouldn't he get some sleep? And Merlin knows that Ron needs his rest, he becomes this horrible insufferable grouch if he doesn't. So I told them we would rotate, one night I would get the bed, the next night Harry would, and then Ron. After much argument, they agreed. The only problem with this wonderful little plan is that on the nights where Harry gets the bed…well…it's not my fault! I swear, it's not, but that first morning I woke up on the most wonderfully warm pillow, and I felt so good, until I realized that it was Ron's chest! Somehow, during the night, I wound up in his arms, and over the last couple of weeks we have awoken to the sound of Harry's hysterical laughter quite a few times. I'm not really complaining though._

_I do hope you're well, Ginny, and I think of you throughout the day often. Be strong, and remember that getting a proper education and doing your best to learn all that you can about defense is just as important as what we're doing. Don't to anything stupid._

_Hope to see you this holiday; I miss you!_

_Love, _

_Hermione_

_P.S. This is Ron. That crazy bookworm wouldn't let me read the letter for whatever reason, but I'm going to assume she told you all about what we're doing. I just wanted to say hello, to reassure you that we're all safe, and to tell you that Harry misses you, even though he's doing his best to pretend he doesn't. Hermione's doing a right good job of taking care of us, she's been cooking all the meals and everything! I swear, she's almost as good as Mum, she made a mince pie the other day that nearly blew me away! I don't know what I'd do without her. Harry and I, that is. Anyway, I miss you like mad, and I hope to see soon._

_Your brother,_

_Ron_

Ginny laughed as she rolled up the scroll, thinking that the phrase 'a way to man's heart is through his stomach' had never been truer. She leaned back on the pillow, curling up and thinking about all the new information. So, Harry's a descendant of Godric Gryffindor? She supposed that made sense, his father was a pureblood and they did live in _Godric's_ Hollow. "_We do have a bit of a lead, a certain thief and goat-lover is involved…" _A thief and a goat-lover? The only thief she could think of was Mundungus; perhaps that was who she was talking about?

She sighed as she turned off the lamp on her bedside table; she would give anything to be there with them. As Hermione said, though, learning how to defend yourself in this war is just as important as what they're doing. She was glad she had accepted McGonagall's request to lead the DA, and she knew that Harry would be proud of her for doing so.

"_Ginny, he loves you…he DID want to write to you, to tell you how he felt, to say how much he missed you…" _And with that final gratifying thought, Ginny rolled over and fell asleep.

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	4. Asking to be Pitied

**Disclaimer: Um...if I were Jo, I wouldn't be doing this. I'd be on a cruise. In like...the Bahamas...**

**Thanks to all those who reviewed! Thanks especially to Jean Marc, for sticking with me despite my constant self doubt and lack of confidence. JM, KEEP YOUR GRADES UP! YOU HAVE TO COME TO DC THIS SUMMER! Ok. Back to the story.**

**I know how I said this would only be six chapters...I lied. Sorry! Turns out this is going to be a little longer.**

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The next morning Ginny awoke with newfound sense of determination. She threw on the pair of jeans at the foot of the bed, grabbed a sweatshirt, and pulled her robes over head. After a quick glance in the mirror, she leapt down the stairs leading towards the common room, taking nearly three steps at a time. She was intent upon finding Neville Longbottom.

She gave the common room a once over, and coming to the conclusion that he was not there, she burst out of the portrait hole and briskly headed towards the great hall.

"In a hurry to get something to eat, are we?" asked sneering voice from behind her. Ginny froze.

"_You know who I want to hurt?" Ginny asked Hermione, as she lay in her childhood bed at the Burrow, staring up at the ceiling. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning._

"_Besides Cho Chang?" Hermione replied with a snicker._

"_Oh, very funny. One word—Lavender." Ginny heard the loud 'humph!' of annoyance, and grinned._

"_No, but, really. I want to hurt Draco Malfoy." _

_After this pronouncement there was a silence that stretched on so long that Ginny wondered if Hermione had fallen asleep. Eventually, however, Hermione responded._

"_I think that Dumbledore would want us to forgive him, Ginny," She said softly._

"_Forgive him! After what he did! Hermione, Malfoy is the cause of Dumbledore's death! If it weren't for him, he would still be alive, Katie would have never been hurt, Ron would have never been poisoned, there would be no doubt as to whether Hogwarts is reopening or not and…and you three wouldn't be leaving this year…it's all Malfoy's fault!"_

"_No it's not. It's Voldemort's fault, Ginny, it all traces back to Voldemort."_

"_So even though Bellatrix uttered the actual spell that killed Sirius, we should blame You-Know-Who, and You-Know-Who only! People have free will; they can choose whether or not they follow him."_

"_That's a different situation. Bellatrix wasn't ordered to kill Sirius. She wasn't forced into being a Death Eater, either. She chose to do all of that on her own, so by all means, hate her." She paused a moment, as if to let that sink in, then continued, "Malfoy was forced. He was threatened with his life, with his family, with everything that is important to him. He had absolutely no choice but to fulfill Voldemort's every last whim, and I highly doubt that he ever truly hated Dum—the Headmaster enough to actually want to kill him."_

"_He's still a Death Eater. You can't ask me to love a Death Eater."_

"_I'm not asking you to love him. I'm asking you to pity him."_

Ginny slowly turned around. It wasn't Draco Malfoy, of course, nobody had heard from him since the disastrous night last June. Everyone assumed he was dead, but they had yet to discover his body. Ginny didn't know why his death bothered her, but she assumed it was because she had known him her whole life. She remembered seeing him when he was just twelve years old. He was just a little boy, a pain in the ass, perhaps, but a child nonetheless. And now he was dead. She wondered vaguely how many classmates this war was going to cost.

"So, Weasley, I noticed Potty isn't here anymore. Suppose he decided to run off with that bushy haired mudblood, eh?"

She remembered Blaise Zambini from the Slug-Club last year. She hated the fact that Slughorn admired him merely because of his gorgeous mother, she hated how snobby he was and how he treated her family, and most of all, she hated him because in all likelihood, his parents were Death Eaters.

"Oh, I think my brother has Hermione covered. But what about you, Zambini? Missing your Death Eater lover? I'm pretty sure he's dead; you might want to stop pining…"

"So I wonder how many of your family will kick it now that the Dark Lord is gaining so much power…oh, that's right, your brother got ripped up by that werewolf, wasn't he? Phil, or something? It's a shame it wasn't a full moon…but at least we can look forward to the death of your beloved. We all know _Potty_ won't last the war. Hopefully Weasel and that mudblood will go down with him." His handsome face was contorted with the usual Slytherin sneer, and his dark eyes were flashing.

Ginny could feel her composure slipping away. Here was a man who had looked forward to the death of the greatest wizard who ever lived, and who on the night of said murder was most likely cowering in the corner of his common room, terrified for his own life. He spoke as if Fenrir Greyback was a friend, an acquaintance with whom he was on good terms, and was never intimidated by; not as a vicious werewolf who would just as easily attack Zambini as he did her brother. Ginny suddenly found herself fighting the overwhelming urge to fly at Zambini, to destroy that arrogant and beautiful face, to rip him down and watch as he cried, and begged her to stop…he deserved it…

"_I'm not asking you to love him. I'm asking you to pity him."_

God, what was this war doing to her? What was it doing to the good in this world? Here she was, a sixteen year old girl, who loved life, had a wonderful family who cared about her, who had been raised to know right and wrong…and here she wanted to kill someone, to actually take someone's life! What kind of situation was it when even the most innocent were guilty?

"_It's Voldemort's fault; it all traces back to Voldemort."_

Then she remembered, the DA, Neville, McGonagall…her chance to fight back…

"I don't have time for you." She snapped, turning briskly away from him and continuing her path down the corridor. He yelled some insult at her retreating back, some meaningless retort that Ginny didn't even hear. She felt good knowing that, finally, a Weasley had simply walked away.

When she entered the Great Hall, she spotted Neville immediately, and made a beeline for him.

"Neville!" She yelled, ignoring the strange looks she was earning from the Hufflepuff table, "Neville, I have to talk to you!"

It never ceased to amaze her how people changed over the years; how children grew into adults; boys into men. Neville was a perfect example. She remembered his round, anxious face when he was merely eleven, and his high-pitched, worried voice. Now he had grown to be taller than Harry, although no where near Ron, of course. His face, although still circular, was older, and he certainly had lost the look of someone of was always afraid. He had fought the Death Eaters twice, and he would do it again. Like so many of her friends, he had been forced to grow up too fast, and now Neville Longbottom was an adult willing to do anything to fight against the monster who had destroyed his family and so many others.

"What's going on?" He asked, sliding around on his seat to look at her.

"Can we go somewhere else to talk?" He gave her a strange look, but nodded and grabbed a piece of half eaten toast before rising and following her.

When they exited the front doors she led him towards the beech tree next to the lake. A slight breeze was whispering through the grass, creating ripples upon the dark water. She sat down beneath the branches, and patted the ground next to her; inviting him to join her.

"So what's this all about?" He asked, as he obliged her silent request.

"We're restarting the DA." She stated; she had never been one to beat around the bush.

"What!"

"Yes. I've been asked to be in charge, but I need your help. You've got to help me structure the meetings, recruit members, and just in the overall teaching. This is very important, Neville, we need to prepare people for what's going on…out there."

"Well, that sounds fine, I suppose, but honestly, what help am I going to be?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! You know as well as I that you are very good at defense. You've fought his supporters twice! I'm going to need assistance when leading such a large class, and I'm asking you to be a sort of…Co-Instructor."

"I'm more than willing." He said firmly, looking her straight in the eye.

"Good! But remember, this isn't some protest against Umbridge. This isn't really a game anymore. We're going to be teaching people how to deal with the enemy…and we'll be looking for people to join…erm…the society that is in charge of fighting You-Know-Who."

"The Order?" Ginny looked up, startled, but then, last year it had been mentioned publicly multiple times, especially towards the end of the year.

"Well…yes. The Order."

"I want to join. The minute I graduate, I'm going straight to McGonagall, and I'm going to become a member." He had rarely sounded so determined.

"I know you are. That's another reason why I'm counting on you to help me with this."

"We probably ought to hold a sort of informational meeting soon. Just to give people an idea of what it's about."

"How about tonight?"

"You think we can find people that quickly?"

"Why not?" He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"Alright," he said finally, obviously coming to a decision, "We'll have them meet at the Room of Requirement at say…eight o'clock tonight?"

"Sounds perfect. Oh, and Neville…try and keep this as quiet as possible, alright."

"That's what makes it so fun, Gin."

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	5. Doing the Best We Can

**Hey guys! I'm so sorry that I haven't updated sooner, things have been so crazy.I was going to go in a different direction with this chapter, but decided to do otherwise. I think some of ya'll misunderstood my most recent author's note, I meant that this story will be MORE than six chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it. Enjoy!**

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_Dear Hermione,_

_It's wonderful to know that the three of you are safe; I'll admit, I've been rather nervous about your journey. I know the constant moving must be rough, particularly the bit about the sleeping arrangements. You little devil, you know you enjoyed every minute of that. I'm grinning as I'm writing this._

_No matter what you say, I'm still angry with Harry. Well, angry is a bit of a strong word. I'm annoyed. Severely annoyed. He has insulted me by acting as if I'm three years old; I have to take that from everyone else and I refuse to take it from him. I realize that he's doing it to "protect me". I also realize that he still cares for me, but I don't think he understands just how important it is to take advantage of the time we have. The possibility of death is around every corner, which is exactly why I want to be with him while I still can. What's the point in waiting if it simply wastes time that could have otherwise been put to good use? I'm not necessarily saying sexually, although I could really use a good snog-fest right about now. I'm talking about everything, about getting to know one another, about being together, and about doing things, fun things, things that it seems everyone besides the four of us get to enjoy. Yes, occasionally we experience a nice holiday at the Burrow, but it so rarely happens that I think we sometimes forget we ever did. I'm being blunt by saying this, but I don't want either of us to die and I not have had the opportunity to truly be with Harry James Potter. How would you feel if Ron died tomorrow, and you had never gotten to tell him exactly how you feel? You never got to hold him, or kiss him, or consider him yours and you his? It's depressing to think about, I know, and I'm sorry for bringing it up, but it's true, and it seems that Bill, Fluer, Tonks, and I are the only ones that get it. Well, Lupin got it after a while. Maybe Harry will too._

_I do have some news, although it's not nearly as exciting as your quest to destroy you-know-who. Neville and I restarted the DA! McGonagall suggested it; she brought me up to her office and told me how important it was that we train people for what's out there, and to keep an eye out for future members of the Order. He and I went around school all Saturday, to recruit people. We convinced several people to come, Luna had of course, immediately volunteered, Seamus and Dean came, along with Parvati and Lavender, though "Lav-Lav" agreed somewhat reluctantly. Having anything to do with Ron, indirectly or not, didn't seem to be on the top of her priority list. It's ridiculous, really, that she would care more about the fact that the DA is related to her ex-boyfriend…well, ex-snogger's cause, then that the training will most likely safe her life in the future. She's so shallow. Anyway, the Creeveys were slightly over-eager to join, Demelza was all for it, and our beaters Peakes and Coote said they would come. Several younger Gryffindors that I don't know as well overheard what I was saying and seemed willing to give it a try. Neville said he'd ask the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and when the meeting started we had around thirty people willing to join._

_It went fine, I suppose. Neville made me so proud; when I said we were training for defense he spoke up and said firmly, "Not just defense, Gin, how to fight as well. We can't always run away." I promise you that one day, Neville Longbottom will be Minister of Magic, or Headmaster, or Head Auror. He'll be someone very highly respected and admired, and he deserves it. He has fought with us numerous times, willing to give everything to us, to Harry. I'm really glad he's helping me with the DA._

_After we explained what our objectives were, and reminded them what the DA stood for and that we were keeping the name to honor Dumbledore, I split them into pairs and we began working. There's definite progress to be made, but I will say, from our first meeting two years ago, people have improved greatly. I think Harry should be the one credited there. Overall, I'm greatly looking forward to upcoming meetings, mainly because Zacharias Smith decided he was to busy to join (thank Merlin!)._

_On to more important things. Hermione, I'm worried about the three of you. You know how Harry gets, he'll want to rush into things, play the hero; he would probably give his life for some bloody Death Eater or something stupid like that. Use your logic and common sense. You'll be able to tell if something doesn't seem right, when our wonderfully clueless boys won't. Sometimes I wonder if they would remember their own names if we didn't remind them. Just…look out for Harry, alright? He's rather important to me. Keep an eye on Ron as well, but I know I don't have to remind you to do that. It might be better for me to suggest you watch something besides my brother for a change. _

_Good luck on dealing with that goat-lover and thief, the latter can be a right pain in the arse. I hope to see you soon, perhaps in London? I miss you all. I wish I could be with you._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

She stretched and slowly rose out of the warm armchair in which she had been curled up. Yawning, she stuffed her quill into her bag and slipped out the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's chastising for being out so late. She began strolling down the familiar path to the Headmistress's office. As she turned a corner she could have sworn she saw a tiny disturbance at the end of the long corridor. She started and glanced at her watch, it read ten after ten. Students weren't supposed to be out this late. Then she reminded herself that _she_ was out this late, so why would she for one moment believe herself to be the only rule breaker in the entire school? The movement was probably just some first year testing out their new dung bombs. But something made her feel like it wasn't…like someone who wasn't supposed to here was hiding, preparing to strike…she shook the disturbing thought from her mind, continuing to walk briskly towards the stairs, her heart beating slightly faster than normal.

Ginny reached the stone gargoyles at last, and couldn't help but feel relieved.

"Ginger Newts," she said clearly, and they sprang away from the door as the entrance revealed the spiral staircase. When she reached the landing, she lightly tapped the door.

"Professor McGonagall," she called softly, "It's Ginny Weasley." The knob turned and the door swung open to the sight of Professor McGonagall in her traditional tartan nightgown.

"Miss Weasley?" Her eyes looked somewhat unfocused and her hair was not as tightly pulled into her bun as usual. Ginny had the impression that the Professor had just woken up.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Professor, but I wanted to give Fawkes a letter to deliver to Hermione."

"That's alright, Weasley, I was just grading some essays, and I—I fell asleep." She sounded embarrassed. "I haven't done that in years, I can't believe…normally I wouldn't…" she trailed off into nothingness. She walked towards the Phoenix's perch, where she began to prod Fawkes who had his beak tucked under his wing, his chest rising and falling slowly. He seemed to be refusing to woken up. Ginny took the opportunity to observe Professor McGonagall.

In the past few months, the Transfiguration Professor had changed. Her hair, normally black with only slight touches of white, was now streaked liberally with grey. The crow's feet and frown lines which had existed, but had not been distinct, were now fully prominent. The eyes hidden behind her square-rimmed glasses were as determined and intelligent as ever, however, they now held the look of someone who had lost everything that had ever mattered to them, who spent far too much time wishing that it would all come back, and be the way things used to be. Her posture, which had already differed after the attack in Ginny's fourth year, had continued to decline, her shoulders were hunched forward, as if trying to protect herself from the outside world. She was still regal, yes. She was still brilliant Professor McGonagall. But she also had the appearance of someone who was completely alone.

Fawkes was finally annoyed enough to open blearly eyes and snatch the letter from McGonagall's outstretched hand, perhaps a little harsher than what was typical of the loving bird. Seconds later, it disappeared in a burst of flame.

"Thank you, Professor," Ginny murmured, feeling ashamed that she had intruded upon the sleep that the Headmistress no doubt needed, and most likely deprived herself from. McGonagall was exactly like Hermione in the way of priorities: work came first, then sleep.

"You're welcome. Be careful on your walk back to the tower." Ginny nodded meekly, and stepped back onto the staircase. She exited the office, and began a small jog towards the Gryffindor tower. She didn't know why, but she felt slightly nervous. The cold, empty corridors held as little light as the moonless night which could be observed through the arched windows. Everything was completely still. She shivered, and pulled her nightgown tighter around her; the castle had never felt this foreboding.

As she rounded the final corner, a large, dark figure materialized in front of her. As the massive outline grew gradually nearer, her heart began pounding agonizingly against her ribs, and then she felt something hard strike her on the back of her skull. Searing pain, numb emptiness, followed by confusion, until everything went black.

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**Please review, it'll only take two minutes of your time:)**


	6. Sibling Cooties

Disclaimer: If I were Jo Rowling, I wouldn't have to take five exams next week.

A/N: Ok, ya'll, I am SO SORRY. The amount of time between this and the last chapter is absolutely ridiculus. I APOLOGIZE, up and down, I truly feel really bad about it. And to make it up to you, I hope to have chapter seven up in the next 3-4 days. Pinky swear. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's really more of a transitional thing, but I think it has its moments. :). Please review! Again, REALLY sorry for the long wait.

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Something was pulling her. Slowly but surely she was being sucked through the endless whirlpool of the tunnel. She tried to resist, but found she couldn't. The dark void was closing around her, the invisible walls reaching out and squeezing her lungs in an iron grip. Struggling wildly but to no success, she finally submitted to the overwhelming pressure.

Sluggishly, Ginny regained consciousness. Her heavy eyelids fluttered pointlessly, but she didn't have the energy to fully open them. It was very warm. She vaguely began to notice something on her face, a gentle, brushing motion. Someone was stroking her forehead. The hands were large, and callused. Male hands.

"Harry?" she whispered confusedly.

"She spoke!" someone whispered loudly, sounding vastly relieved, "Fred! Neville! She spoke!" It wasn't Harry's voice. Determined to solve the mystery, she forced herself to wrench her eyelids apart.

Ginger hair, curled around an anxious face materialized above her.

"George?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Her brother made a choking noise and scooped her up in a viscous hug, crushing her against him. She was somewhat surprised; her brothers weren't the type to convey their emotions, particularly physically. They were firm believers in sibling cooties.

"What—what're you—what happened?" She realized that she was in the hospital wing, the spotless white surrounding her made it rather evident, and she knew that something horrible must of happened—vague memories of dark figures and searing pain flashed across her mind—but she felt she deserved some details.

"George! Tell me what happened!"

"Forge, our dear sister is obviously alright; she is recovering her Weasley temper astonishingly quick." Ginny scowled at Fred, but secretly she was relieved that he had said what he had, for George promptly returned to normal, dropping her unceremoniously onto the bed.

"I find it equally shocking, Gred. I mean, it's not like we've been worrying about her for the last six hours, is it?"

"Absolutely not. If we had, of course, then she might consider showering us with praise and generosity, but since that is not the case then we really do deserve her wounding response."

"It did wound me, Fred. Right _here_." He gestured dramatically at his chest.

"Would you two shut up and tell me what happened?" Ginny snapped, but she was smiling. She saw someone lean towards her out of the corner of her eye and realized it was Neville.

"You were attacked," he said slowly, "right in front of the Fat Lady. She saw the whole thing, and started yelling…it woke up the whole castle, practically."

"By who?"

"Well," he looked rather uncomfortable, "we…don't really know quite yet, actually…"

"What do you mean you don't know! You just mentioned that the Fat Lady witnessed the whole incident, didn't she—?"

"That's the problem. She saw you, but she couldn't see the attacker. She said they may have been disillusioned."

"They can't have been disillusioned; he looked pretty solid to me! He was a huge bloke, probably around the size of Malfoy's old crony, Grabbe or Coyle or whatever…wait a second…you don't think…surely not…but then, they can't have…" she trailed off. To do something as complex as stalking and attacking someone after curfew at Hogwarts without getting caught required, at minimum, the intelligence of a ferret, and since the blonde one had gone missing, it was highly doubtful that the pathetic excuses for civilized people known as Crabbe and Goyle could generate such a feat independently. Still, though…they probably weren't happy that Malfoy was gone…and Ginny was definitely the person most associated with 'Potty, Weasel, and the Bushy-Haired, Buck-Toothed Mudblood' left in all of Hogwarts…

"Brother! Our little brother's lover is rubbing off on our dear baby sister!" Fred was looking horrified.

"Muttering nonsense, arguing with herself, getting frustrated when we don't understand the complex workings of her mind, attempting to solve world hunger and achieve universal peace with only herself and few books at her disposal…" George ticked the list on his fingers, "By George—Fred! She's turning into Hermione!" he looked severely alarmed.

"Shove it, you two. I'm not trying to solve world hunger, and neither is Hermione—is she?"

"Nah, I think she's got her hands full with achieving world peace, searching for those hor—"

"HORRIBLE war going on, isn't it?" George cut his twin off, glaring at him and hissing "I've always known I was the smarter half, but could you be any thicker? We can't talk about things like that in the bloody public!" Harry had explained his mission to the Weasley family only, mainly so that they would understand the importance of allowing Ron and Hermione to accompany him. He had requested them to withhold the information in the strictest confidence, and reminded them how ghastly the consequences would be if anyone realized what the three of them were searching for.

"Sorry! Sorry, keep your pants on! Nobody heard!" Neville made a huffing sound and the three of them gazed in his direction.

"Oh, don't mind me," he said sadly, "I'm used to having no clue what's going on, and no one ever bothering to fill me in. I've been Harry's friend for seven years now, you know."

"Neville! It's not that we don't _want _to tell you…it's just that…we…er…" Thankfully she was saved from responding by Madame Pomfrey bustling out of her office.

"Shoo! All three of you! She needs rest!"

"Aw, but Madame Pomfrey…"

"She's our sister!"

"We've been worrying all night!"

"Well, that's really too bad, but what your sister needs is peace and quiet, which I'm quite sure neither of you will be able to offer." The twins continued to grumble, but together with Neville they left the hospital wing, but not before Neville whispered:

"Get better, Gin. I'm going to have a meeting tonight."

She nodded, and watched the three of them leave. She appreciated them visiting her, but it was somewhat depressing knowing that, in different circumstances, it would be three other people crowding around her bed, making sure she was all right…hands besides her brother's brushing her hair from her face…

"Miss Weasley, the Headmistress is here to see you."

Professor McGonagall shut the door quietly behind her and slowly walked towards the bed.

"I'm sorry to bother you when you obviously need rest, Weasley," She said as she pulled the chair previously occupied by Neville towards her and sat down, "but I need to speak with you. But first…Poppy?"

"Yes?" responded the nurse, who was still busying herself with dusting a bedside table nearby.

"Would you mind if I had a private word with Miss Weasley?"

"Not a bit. Keep in mind she has to take her potions in about fifteen minutes though, Professor."

"Of course." Madame Pomfrey bustled into her office, closing the door behind her.

"How are you feeling?" McGonagall asked concernedly, peering closely at Ginny's as though trying to detect signs of illness, weakness, or any other defect.

"Fine…" Ginny muttered, somewhat thrown by this uncharacteristic display of anxiety. McGonagall threw Ginny a look that said quite plainly 'I don't believe you', but she let Ginny's response stand and continued speaking.

"Your parents were here earlier," she said in a low voice, "and they both agree with me. We don't think you should stay here, at least for the time being."

"Stay—here? What?"

"At Hogwarts. Obviously there's someone within these walls that has an intent to harm you. We—your parents and I—have decided to…remove you to a safer place." She glanced around as though a Death Eater might be waiting in line to get a flu shot before continuing, "We…there's a place in London we think might be suitable for the time being." She peered sternly at Ginny over the top of her square-rimmed glasses, and Ginny knew that 'a place in London' translated to 'Grimmauld Place'.

"Well, I mean, not that I have a problem with that or anything, but—what about school?"

"We have made temporary arrangements for that; I will explain further when we arrive at the destination. Rest assured, however, that you _will_ return to Hogwarts, most likely later in the term. Now, your things are currently being packed by several house-elves—Dobby seemed particularly eager to help—and in around an hour someone will arrive to escort you to London. Any questions?"

"Yes. Will my parents be there?" Ginny wasn't to keen on the idea of being alone in the dark atmosphere of Grimmauld Place. She recalled Sirius haunting the hallways, shadows beneath his eyes and a scowl ever present…it was Grimmauld Place that led him to his death.

"For a short time, yes, but your father is rather busy and your mother…I'm sure she'll explain it to you. I do hope your feeling better, Weasley, now sleep a little before you have to leave." And on that confusing note, McGonagall left the infirmary. Before Ginny could even digest what she had been told, Madame Pomfrey had bustled in and forced a sleeping draught down her throat, and Ginny slipped off into a comfortable sleep.

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I have a lovely weekend of priming cabinets and drawers to look forward too, but if you review, I promise that even the most daunting, scary, dirty, dusty, cabinet will look inviting. So please, drop aline! 


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